“Give us a hand, will you? I can’t get this needle threaded and there’s a hole in my stocking as big as your fist. I wouldn’t mind, only it’s opening game and we want to look decent. I caught it on a nail.” “Wait a minute. I’ll be with you,” sung out Bill, and dropping his own work he darted for the room of his chum. “Just my chance!” whispered Bondy. “But I haven’t much time!” He had the substitute lenses ready, and a small screw driver with which to open the frame and make the change. Into Bill’s room the sneak darted when he saw the pitcher enter the study of Whistle-Breeches. A rapid glance around showed him where the goggles were—in their usual place on top of a shelf of books. It was the work of a minute to secure them, and begin to loosen the screws. Bondy worked feverishly, but his very haste and nervousness were against him. His hands trembled, and he was in a sweat of fear. One glass was almost loose, when, with a suddenness that was as startling as a clap of thunder would have been, the door leading from Bill’s to Pete’s room opened, and the shortstop entered. He did not notice Bondy at first, as the latter stood in the shadow of the book shelves, and this fact gave the conspirator time to shove the screw driver and extra lenses into his pocket. “Caught!” he murmured under his breath. The tinkle of glass caught Pete’s ears, and he wheeled around. “Oh! Hello, Bondy!” he exclaimed, and then catching sight of his brother’s goggles in the other’s hands he quickly asked: “What are you doing with those glasses?” CHAPTER XVII BILL’S PITCHING For a moment Bondy did not answer. On his face there was a sickly grin, and he seemed to turn a sort of greenish white. “What are you doing with those glasses?” repeated Pete as he took a step forward. “I—er—I just came in to see Bill,” stammered the rich lad. “He was out, and I—I—er I was looking at them. Queer lenses; aren’t they? One seems to be loose. I was going to tell Bill he ought to tighten it.” No wonder it was loose, for the sneak had partly taken out the screw. The expression on Pete’s face changed. He had had a quick suspicion that all was not right, but he began to feel now that perhaps he was mistaken. “See, here is the loose glass!” went on Bondy eagerly, for he was quick to notice the altered expression on the other’s countenance. “It ought to be tightened, or it might drop out during the game, and become broken. You can tighten it with a knife.” He dared not offer his own screw driver. “That’s right; it does need fixing,” admitted Pete. “Much obliged for noticing it, old man. Bill might not have seen it.” “Yes, I just came in—er—to ask Bill how his arm was, and I noticed the glasses,” went on the visitor lamely. “Why, what’s the matter with his arm?” asked Pete quickly, and in some alarm. “Oh, nothing, I—I just wondered if it would hold out.”